"What if beyond this... you really can see and hope for all the best and right things that God has to offer? Oh, it may be blurred a bit by the perspiration that keeps running riverlike into your eyes, and in a really difficult fight one of the eyes might even be closing a bit; but faintly, dimly, and ever so far away you can see the object of it all. And you say it is worth it, you do want it, you will fight on. Like Coriantumr, you will lean upon your sword to rest a while, then rise to fight again." -- Jeffrey R. Holland
Sometimes I can see what I have been working so hard for. Some days I can see myself in the future; a successful and happy person who works diligently and makes a difference. Other days it feels as though the whole world has turned against me in a relentless effort to pull me down, or keep me from moving forward. Which is a ridiculous notion, but a real feeling nonetheless.
I hardly think, though, that many things could keep me from fighting. I have learned to go forward and make my own way. If all else fails, I am extremely stubborn. I think it is an Anderson trait ingrained long-ago; a trait I am grateful for. I can say for certain that at the end of my trials I will be able to say that I fought hard... that I tried and that I learned from my experiences things that could not otherwise have been learned.
There is a poem written by Dylan Thomas titled "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night." To me it is a beautiful piece of work.
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
